Opportunities/One door closes...and a window opens (6/?)

[madbottoms]

Title: Opportunities/One door closes...and a window opens (6/?)

Rating: PG – I think. There is talk of sex and some ‘adult’ moments but nothing explicit. My son watches TV with more gratuitous moments than this story. It’s the smarm you need to worry about

Genre: AU! No aliens but some familiar names may still be used

Characters: Jack, Ianto, Estelle

Summary: The holiday season is coming up and Ianto Jones is stuck without a job, with very little money and not too many prospects. So when he is offered a job for two weeks, he readily accepts. But this new job may become complicated when he realises that the man who broke his heart years before is the grandson of his new employer.

A/N: Ianto packs and Jack gets to see how Ianto really lives.

*~*

Chapter Six

 

For the first time in years, Ianto wasn’t simply enduring Christmas carols, he was enjoying them. With the dim prospect of two weeks of living on noodles now erased from his calendar, life was looking up.

 

Of course there was till the little matter of Jack Harkness lurking in the background. But once his grand opening was past he’d be going home, and that interference would be gone as well. With him out of the way his peace of mind would be restored, and he and Estelle could get down to some serious digging and sorting...for a while, at least.

 

The nerve of that man, threatening to tell Estelle what had happened between them all those years ago. Of course, he wouldn’t actually do it, because he’d be the one who would come out looking the bad guy. Still...

 

Ianto had thought he was long over the sting of the single evening he’d spent with Jack. Even in the cloakroom he hadn’t entirely lost his perspective. But that had been before he’d had to deal with him on such a personal level, and now all the feelings had come flashing back: the frustration and the anger, the hurt, the desolation and—yes, the attraction too. Because Jack had been very attractive, especially to a naive freshman who was also struggling with an identity crisis and problems at home. And of course he’d know that this guy was way out of his league. A naive freshman, Ianto reminded himself, who had bought the tale of his need for tutoring—which had certainly been true, as far as it went—and who had gotten in way over his head. And only when it had been too late had he found out the whole thing had been the result of a bet, with the entire class in on it. That the single most perfect night that had meant so much to him had meant less than nothing to Jack.

 

You dropped out of that class too, he’d said.

 

Well, he was almost right. He’s stuck it out for a while, hoping it would all blow over and everybody would forget that stupid bet. But though the professor had kept order in the classroom, the teasing before and after class hadn’t ceased. After a while he’d made himself so sick over it he’d skipped the rest of the lectures and turned in his work at the professor’s office. Only the fact that he was such a promising student had kept him from failing that class.

 

Just one more thing Jack Harkness was responsible for. But Jack had said that wasn’t the case, that he’d tried to talk to him. Was this true? Could Ianto believe that it might have all been one big misunderstanding?

 

Ianto carefully made his way up the icy steps and let himself into the hallway of the dingy boarding house. The landlady was standing in the hall arguing with a tenant about overdue rent.

 

Ianto unlocked his door, then turned back and cleared his throat.

 

The landlady turned and looked at him. ‘What do you want?’

 

Ianto debated. It wasn’t smart to announce that his room would be unoccupied for a while—but he couldn’t simply disappear for two weeks without letting her know, either. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I’m going a way for a while.’

 

The woman looked at him suspiciously. ‘How long a while? You going to pay for January in advance?’

 

Ianto couldn’t pay in advance if he wanted to. Not with the amount of money he had left in his pocket. ‘I’ll pay for January when January comes,’ he said firmly. ‘Just as I do every month.’

 

The front door opened again, and he saw the landlady’s eyes widen as she spotted the newcomer before continuing her ‘conversation’ with the other tenant. Ianto looked around to see who had come in, and his stomach dropped.

 

*~*

 

Jack stamped his feet on the doormat and cast a long look around the dim hallway of the boarding house. The wallpaper was peeling, the glass in the door rattled as he closed it, the floorboards creaked under his feet, and the air smelled of cigarette and burned toast.

 

Ianto looked over his shoulder. ‘Fancy meeting you here. I suppose Estelle gave you the address?’

 

‘She sent me over to help you pack so you’d be back by dinner.’

 

The landlady stopped yelling and bustled over. ‘Did you say you were moving?’

 

‘I’m not giving up the room,’ Ianto said. ‘I’m just picking up the stuff I’ll need for a couple of weeks.’

 

The landlady folded her arms. ‘If you want me to hold the room, you’ll have to pay ahead of time for January. Otherwise, how do I know you’ll come back?’

 

Jack stepped between them. ‘You trust him—the same way he trusts you not to put the rest of his stuff out on the curb the minute his back is turned.’

 

The landlady gave him a disdainful look and went on, ‘And don’t expect me to refund your deposit if you give up the room, because there’s a hole in the wall.’ She returned to the front room and once again argued with the other tenant.

 

‘Home sweet home,’ Ianto said. ‘The hole in the wall was there when I moved in.’

 

Honestly curious, Jack asked, ‘Why do you put up with this?

 

‘Because it isn’t for much longer, and because living cheaply now means I won’t have much to pay after I graduate.’

 

‘But you can’t want to come back here, after you were robbed.’

 

‘Well, that’s rather beside the point, isn’t it?’ Ianto pushed a door open. The sliding panel squeaked and stuck, and he gave it an extra shove.

 

In some situations, there aren’t any good choices, he had said. You just deal with it and go.

 

It was starting to look to Jack like Ianto was an expert at dealing with things and going on. Caring for a sick mother, not being well himself...

 

He’d had a streak of hard luck, there was no doubt, but Jack couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the story that he’d told him.

 

Jack followed him in. He switched the lights such as they were. How he managed to get dressed in this gloom, much less read or study, was beyond him.

 

His gaze came to rest on the mantel, where the little Christmas tree stood rather bravely in the centre, drooping under the weight of five too-big ornaments.

 

Damn. He didn’t want to feel sorry for him...but he did.

 

‘You pack,’ he said. ‘I’ll carry.’

 

*~*

 

The trouble was. Ianto had no idea what to pack. Clothes weren’t a problem—his wardrobe was limited, so he figured he’d just pile everything into a crate and take it along. It was all the other things he wasn’t sure about.

 

All the other things. What hollow statement, considering how few material goods he actually possessed. Everything he owned could fit into a minivan with room to spare.

 

Jack came back in from his third trip out to the car and raised an eyebrow at the half-empty crate Ianto was contemplating. ‘What’s the hold up?’

 

‘I’m trying to decide what else to take.’

 

Jack looked around, as if he had no idea what he could be talking about.

 

He had to give Jack a little credit, though—not a single disparaging word had come from him about Ianto’s surroundings, his belongings, or the fact that his luggage consisted of plastic crates and not he monogrammed leather bags his crowd probably carried.

 

‘Besides clothes, what could you need?’

 

‘Books maybe. I wonder if I’ll have time to start studying for next semester.’

 

‘Those would be classes starting next month? You already have those books?’

 

‘Some of them. Picking up one or two at a time is easier on the wallet than buying them all at once.’

 

Jack looked perplexed, as if he’d never thought of that before.

 

His expression made it perfectly clear, Ianto thought. That he’d never had to worry about that sort of thing. ‘It’s sort of money in the bank,’ Ianto said. ‘Buying what you need ahead of time.’

 

‘So if you invested all your cash in textbooks rather than just leaving it lying around, you wouldn’t be in this spot.’

 

‘It wasn’t just lying around, it was hidden.’ Just not well enough. ‘And if I’d bought all my books with it, I’d still have a problem—namely, what was I going to do for food for the next two weeks.’

 

‘Speaking of eating,’ Jack suggested, ‘Emma promised my favourite roast for dinner, so can we hurry this project along?’

 

Ianto’s stomach growled at the mere suggestions of a roast—a proper home-cooked meal.

 

‘Just grab everything you might need and let’s go.’

 

‘Everything?’ he said doubtfully.

 

‘Sure. That’s really what’s bothering you, right? You’re wondering if the thieves around here will pop in to inspect whatever you’ve left behind and destroy it if it isn’t worth anything.’

 

He couldn’t argue with that, since it was exactly what he’d been thinking. It was the reason he’d hesitated to tell the landlady that he’d be gone at all. If word got out that he wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks he might as well leave the door wide open.

 

Still, Ianto’s pride was dented at the idea of dragging out the debris of his life in front of Jack.

 

In front of anyone. It wasn’t specifically Jack he was sensitive about. He didn’t like letting anyone see the pathetically few sentimental things that remained to him.

 

Jack moved over the mantel and picked up a textbook from the political science class he’d just finished. ‘What are you taking next semester?’

 

He was actually trying to make things easier for Ianto—making conversation to cover his discomfort. If he had half a brain, Ianto thought, he’d be grateful. Instead, he was unreasonably annoyed—as if Jack had come right out and said that he realised Ianto had a reason to be embarrassed, so he would do the proper etiquette thing and pretend not to notice. As if etiquette and good behaviour were a big consideration with him!

 

Ianto gathered up a couple of bags of books and kept his voice level. ‘Advanced Accounting theory, auditing, organising information systems, advanced database programming—’

 

‘What do you do for fun? Write computer code for the government to calculate income tax?’

 

‘I could,’ Ianto said. ‘In fact, I have. Not the government’s software, but a simple package for a small corporation. That was last year in my tax practicum. I also did one for a document management system for archiving.’ He pulled a ragged box from under the bed.

 

Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘I’m curious—do the words pizza and a movie mean anything to you? You know, nothing too fancy.’

 

Ianto shrugged. ‘I don’t have the time or money for entertainment.’

 

‘Everybody needs to relax. And you can’t tell me those guys hanging around the cloakroom last night wouldn’t buy you a pizza,’ Jack said but Ianto ignored and he moved on. ‘That looks like a very old quilt.’

 

‘Nobody would steal that.’ He shook his head and started to push it back.

 

‘What is it, your security blanket?’ Jack took the box out of his hands. ‘If it’s really old, somebody might just pick it up. Better take it.’

 

‘Estelle’s got enough of her own old stuff to deal with.’

 

‘It’s a big guestroom. She and Emma are probably getting it ready for you right now, putting in all the little touches to make it feel like home. You know, towels, fresh sheets, robe laid out, and a chocolate mint on the pillow...’

 

Ianto looked around at the drab little room. ‘That will make it feel just like home,’ he said dryly. ‘And in case you’re trying to hurry me along by pointing out that I’m supposed to relieving Estelle of household duties, not creating more work for her—’

 

‘The idea had crossed my mind.’

 

‘Yes, and I already feel guilty about being here instead of helping out. But so should you—I caught what she said about waxing the floor for you.’ He got his single good suit from the closet and folded it carefully atop the crate. ‘What aren’t you already in the guestroom anyway?’

 

‘Because she keeps it for guests,’ Jack explained, with an air of long-suffering patience. ‘She always has. I have my own room on the top floor, reserved for the time when I was a kid and used to visit her for the summers.’

 

‘Every year? All summer?’

 

‘Yeah. My parents would send me over because Gran missed me after we left for America. Then I came back for university and I could visit more often.’

 

‘And she put you in the attic?’

 

‘Hey, I like the attic. It was better than being home.’ Then as if he realised too late what he was saying, he seized the crate from his arms and walked out.

 

So maybe Jack’s life hadn’t been so privileged after all. Well, that was certainly something to mull over some night when he couldn’t sleep.

 

He picked up another crate and followed Jack out to the Jaguar. The steps were still icy and had some snow on them, but the tenant from the front room was picking at the path with irregular thrusts of a ragged-edge shovel.

 

‘Good exercise,’ Jack commented as he walked past. ‘The repetitive arm motion builds the biceps—get’s people’s attention every time.’

 

The tenant rolled his eyes. ‘So maybe you wanna clear the path?’

 

‘On no,’ Jack said pleasantly. ‘I have all the attention I need.’

 

The tenant looked at Ianto as if he’d never seen him before. And perhaps he hadn’t—he’d actually done his best to remain invisible around the creeps at the boarding house. But suddenly a warm gleam of appreciation crept into the guy’s eyes.

 

Ianto set the crate into the boot. ‘Good, thanks,’ he said. ‘Now I suppose when I come home I’ll have him on my door asking for more than he’s entitled to. You know, Jack, if I wanted someone to advertise my good points I’d ask.’

 

Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Advertising your good points? I was just trying to hurry the guy along so neither of us slipped on the path.’

 

When they were back inside, the landlady was hovering suspiciously in the doorway of Ianto’s room. ‘It sure looks like you moving out,’ she accused. ‘The only things you’ve left are junk.’

 

‘Because it’s the only stuff that’ll likely stay safe while I’m gone,’ he said dryly, leaving the other retort about knowing junk when she saw it. He grabbed another crate full of study supplies, and when he put a board across the top it served as a desk. He decided to leave the board behind. The landlady had finally moved on, thankfully.

 

Two trips later, the path was in much better condition. The shoveler paused to leer at him and lick his lips, and Ianto shuddered as we slid behind the wheel of Estelle’s car.

 

Two weeks, he told himself.  I don’t even have to think about it for two weeks.

 

Comments

[pharlap1.livejournal.com]

love the update

[madbottoms.livejournal.com]

Cheers. Appreciate the comment has always.